A semi-regular commentary written by jazz singer Carol Sloane, describing memorable moments during her 50-year career, and her work with some of the legendary jazz musicians of all time; social and political issues which inspire or infuriate, her beloved Red Sox baseball team, life in New England, favorite books, recipes, and the occasional screech and holler directed at knuckle-heads.

Sunday, March 10, 2013

A Moving Experience

After living in this third floor flat for 26 years*, we approach the back-breaking labor and genuine stress of sorting through, packing up and tossing out so much worthless stuff. It's truly amazing how much of it piles up, having passed the expiration date months, if not years ago. Believe me: we could use a back-hoe for this job. But we've made a good start anticipating the arrival of the moving company's strapping lads on Tuesday when the serious upheaval and chaos begins. My husband is a "keeper", so finding old para-mutual tickets from Suffolk Downs dated 1996, or "to-do" lists marked 1986 most definitely qualify for the trash bin. I am proud of him for giving up these valuable items without a whimper. Good man.

One of the nicer aspects of this cleaning out business is the discovery of long-lost bits and odds and ends which are in fact worthy of retention, proper identification and storage. Among my most recent finds: a written exchange between Barbra Streisand and myself which occurred late in 1967 or very early 1968. Here's the background:

I was living in New York City at the time, and my hairdresser was a skilled and funny man named Mr. Edward. He was employed at the Revlon Salon on Fifth Avenue. I saw him on a regular basis. One day, the place became a bee-hive, abuzz with the word spreading throughout that Barbra Streisand was being prepped, polished and permed in a private room. "Eddy" knew I'd met Barbra more than once when she and I were both recording for Columbia Records, so I think he wanted me to prove our acquaintanceship by sending her a note, and whether she'd acknowledge same. Today I found the little piece of paper. I wrote on one side, she turned it over and replied on the back. It might be difficult to read my writing, and I've tried to enlarge it to no avail, so I've transcribed both sides:

I wrote:
﻿

Dear Barbra -

I've just been excitedly informed you're here!

We met long ago when I was with Columbia Records -

one night at The Village Vanguard.

Like everyone else, I think it's smashing

you're so successful, and

Happy New Year.

I should have it so good in '68!

Carol Sloane

Here is her charming reply:

Dear Carol -

I remember you & that night very well -

I was so envious that you were going to

California to do a TV show -

You sang & still sing great!

All best wishes to you always -

Barbra

I especially love the part about envying me the trip to LA. That was for an appearance on The Steve Allen Show, a weekly hodge-podge on ABC, and it was my first trip out there. Memory tells me it was great fun.
******************************

*No elevator either. The identical first-floor apartment became vacant last month, so I hurriedly requested the transfer, and received the okay immediately. However, just because we'll retain residence in the same building, that doesn't make it any easier: we might as well be relocating to Fargo. Wonderful film though. Have you seen it?